we both go down together,we may stay there forever
by a ghost in schoolclothes
Summary: Prompt: Childhood memory where Loki is afraid of heights.


**Based off a prompt I randomly found a few days ago: "Childhood memory where Loki is afraid of heights. Can be angsty if you want." So knowing me, I had to make it angsty. P I don't own any of the characters, or the song the title is from. **

His father says no.

There's a celestial hole stretching far beneath them, the gaping jaws of a cosmic beast unhinging as the maw of the unknown gulps down the remnants of the Bifrost. Loki is crying, and his father says _no. _

Thor holds the scepter with a sweaty fist, a clenched, sweaty fist that makes the end of the scepter slippery and difficult to hold onto, but he's not going to lose his grip. He can't lose his brother now, not when he has this _chance. _He tries frantically to meet Loki's eyes, because he sees the change in them now, sees the anger being swallowed by some sort of dry resolution, some sort of heavy-hearted decision revealed to him and him alone.

Loki looks up at him, and beneath his dangling feet is the abysmal void, an impossibly large pit yawning interminably wide and deep below them. As the explosion of light blossoms behind him, a brilliant slow-motion supernova, Thor's little brother, backlit by the radiance of his own making, says quietly, "Please don't let me go."

It's stated with this sort of dull certainty, and there's no emotion, no desperation, nothing laced in his voice. But Thor doesn't need to hear anything because he sees it all, sees the open, guileless expression on his brother's face, the tears shining on his cheeks, and the raw pain in his eyes as if he'd presented it outright.

He also sees his brother's hand slip ever so slightly, his fingers slackening on the handle of the scepter, and Thor's eyes widen. He wishes with all of his heart that he was holding his brother's hand now, because he would've been able to grab onto his wrist if ever he let go. "Loki—" he says, but he falters and cannot think for the life of him anything else to say.

"Please don't let me go," Loki says again, and this time his voice is choked, too. It strikes a chord in Thor's chest, and he allows himself one moment, one moment to remember when they were children.

There was a cliff outside the castle grounds, and Thor, adventurous Thor, brave Thor, golden Thor had convinced Loki to sneak out with him because he wanted to jump. He wanted to fly through the air, to plummet down into the rushing water below, to feel the exhilaration of being in midair for a few glorious seconds.

They stood on the cliff staring down at the churning belly of the beast below, Thor's eyes alight with excitement and apprehension. He'd stripped down already, knowing how waterlogged clothes would weigh him down, and he was readying himself at the edge, fully prepared to jump, when Loki pulled him back.

"What is it?" Thor had snapped, whipping his head back. To his dismay, Loki was still dressed, arms folded over his tiny chest and over-long black hair blowing into his face. His frame was slight, small, even spare, and he stood with his hands clasped at his chest like a nervous, fretting bird, raised up on the balls of his feet as if he were trying to look taller, or as if he were about to take flight. His green eyes were flitting back and forth as he shifted his weight.

"I-"

"Are you _afraid, _brother?" Thor chided, raising an eyebrow knowingly as older brothers do. "Do the heights frighten you?"

"No!" Loki spat. He leaned over the edge of the cliff, and Thor watched as he swallowed, eyes widening at the lengthy drop that awaited him. "It's—it's just so far down. That's what frightens me."

Thor resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but he was not annoyed in the slightest. "I'll go with you. I told you this already, did I not? And you know I did not lie to spare you; I am not nearly as gifted with words as you are."

At that, Loki smiled, and minutes later, the two brothers looked at each other and gave curt, serious nods before stepping from the cliffs and dropping, whooping, into the open air, falling into the froth below together.

Now, snapped from his mournful reverie, Thor sees that same look on Loki's face as he glances over his shoulder at the void, the sheen of anxious tears unshed in his eyes. He gives that same solemn nod up at him now, that look that says _I'll have you know I'm scared to death, _and Thor knows what's going to happen and he cannot stop it and he hates himself for it.

Loki's hand loosens on the scepter. Thor's eyes flicker towards the movement, and he can do nothing but watch as his little brother lets go and plummets into the light, becoming smaller and smaller until he's gone. He screams, a raw, feral cry, and reaches out a hand—_I'll go with you, I told you this already—_as Loki fades away.

He screams and thrashes, trying to get his father to drop him. He kicks his ankle furiously. He's _not_ afraid of the heights, he's _not _afraid to fall, he's not afraid of anything anymore except losing the one thing he already knows he's lost.

"Thor. _Thor. _Stop struggling and let me save you."

Odin is hatefully calm, so calm that Thor just yells louder. "Let me save my _brother_!" he screams in response, and he flails, flinging the scepter back in hopes that it will hit his father and startle him enough to lose his grip on his hysterical son's foot.

He dissolves into a sobbing mess moments later as Odin finally pulls him back to the edge of the shattered rainbow bridge. "You should not have punished yourself by refusing my attempts to pull you back to safety," Odin says, crouching next to him and sparing only a momentary glance out at the empty space his adopted son plummeted into. "I know how the heights disarm you."

And Thor looks up at him and manages, in a voice choked with tears, "It's just so far down. That's what scares me."


End file.
